


The Cost of Certainty

by Kyluxtrashpit (ApostateRevolutionary)



Category: Star Wars - All Media Types, Star Wars Sequel Trilogy
Genre: Alternate Universe - Modern Setting, Banter, Blood and Violence, Internal Conflict, M/M, Mild Gore, Minor Character Death, Pining, Serial Killers, Suspense, Twisted and Fluffy Feelings, mildly corrupt FBI agent Ben Solo
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2020-09-26
Updated: 2020-09-26
Packaged: 2021-03-07 22:07:46
Rating: Mature
Warnings: Graphic Depictions Of Violence
Chapters: 1
Words: 2,541
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/26654902
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/ApostateRevolutionary/pseuds/Kyluxtrashpit
Summary: Hux had been a name in the case file since the beginning. He had so many connections to the victims, yet was never a suspect, any possible evidence against him being circumstantial at best. But Agent Ben Solo has a gut feeling he can't ignore, no matter what else he might feel about Hux, so he breaks into Hux's house illegally to look for evidence. He's not expecting Hux to find him there.
Relationships: Armitage Hux/Ben Solo, Armitage Hux/Ben Solo | Kylo Ren, Armitage Hux/Kylo Ren
Comments: 11
Kudos: 131
Collections: Classic Kylux Throwback 2020





	The Cost of Certainty

**Author's Note:**

> And here we are, my fourth and final piece for Classic Kylux Throwback! For the theme of Dark Content, I went with serial killers, cause Hux murdering people is fucking hot okay
> 
> Also I’d be lying if I said this wasn’t a little inspired by my recent Hannibal rewatch lmao, but no cannibalism, just serial killing in this case

The lock clicked open and Ben couldn’t help looking around the empty street, his heart rate ratcheting up. He was really doing this. He took a deep breath before taking his lockpick out and opening the door, slow and casual, like this was a normal thing. The neighbours didn’t have a good view and he had his FBI badge on the off-chance someone did call the cops. The cops always backed off when they saw that.

They wouldn’t know that Ben had no legal right to be here.

No one knew he was here, not his fellow agents or even his partner on the case, Poe. They would’ve tried to stop him and Ben couldn’t let that happen, not with how high the body count already was. There may not have been enough evidence, but Ben _knew_ who was responsible. He couldn’t let Hux get away with it any longer.

Hux had connections to a few of the victims, so of course he’d come up in the investigation. He’d never officially been a suspect, but there was something a little too polished about him, something of a mask he wore. Despite there being nothing to go on, Ben had a feeling and he couldn’t let it go. Circumstantial evidence followed Hux wherever he went, but without anything concrete, Ben was powerless to do anything about it, even though he was _sure_ the serial killer leaving mangled bodies all over the city _had_ to be Hux. So here he was, illegally entering Hux’s house and banking on finally finding something he could work with.

In truth, part of Ben wanted to be wrong, but the rest of him insisted he wasn’t. Hux, though not a suspect, had been so central to the case that they’d had many interviews, many discussions, some of which had spilled into less professional settings and topics. Hux was… he was magnetic, in a way Ben couldn’t explain. There was still that sense of being hidden, of there being parts of himself he didn’t show, but it always felt like he was inviting Ben to see them, to _know_ Hux, if Ben had the guts for it. Even with his suspicions, Ben couldn’t help but be drawn in.

Ben shook his head, dispelling his conflicting thoughts. If he found something, they’d deal with the legality of the how while they built the case. If he didn’t, no one, including Hux, would ever know, and perhaps Ben could pursue all the things he’d been fantasizing about with him. It’d be fine. Ben was tired of being the ‘problem’ agent, the one with the ‘conspiracy theories’ that so often ended up being right. He needed to fucking prove it or know, once and for all, that he was wrong this time.

As Ben entered the house, he locked the door behind him, just in case, and carefully made his way through the main level. There was absolutely nothing amiss, the refined, successful man Hux was fully on display, no hint of anything else, just as Ben had expected. Someone like Hux would make sure his evidence was well hidden.

Ben made his way to the cellar first, finding racks of probably absurdly expensive wine and two doors. The first led to a storage room with various dry goods, cleaning supplies, and towels and linens and the sort. Nothing out of the ordinary, just a pantry. The second door was locked and Ben bit his lip. Maybe he shouldn’t be doing this, maybe he had been wrong after all, just had his own feelings and desires mix with his trust issues and turn into something else…

He couldn’t let it go, though, not with one more door to open. Sure, some people had locked doors in their own homes, but in the cellar? When Hux lived alone? That was definitely suspicious.

Sighing, Ben knelt down and slipped the tension wrench and pick back out of his pocket and into the lock, beginning his work on it. Testing the lock, a cold feeling settled in Ben’s stomach. This lock was more advanced, more expensive, and harder to pick than the one on Hux’s actual door. What could be behind this door that Hux considered more important to keep hidden than all the nice, expensive, steal-able things in the rest of his house?

Sure, there still could’ve been a logical explanation, but Ben’s heart rate picked up again as the lock finally clicked open. Standing up, he wiped his sweaty palms on his pants and took a deep breath. That part of him, the part that enjoyed talking to Hux, that remembered the nights they’d had charged dinners, that indulged in fantasies when Ben touched himself, was still there, screaming that it couldn’t be true. Ben couldn’t ignore his gut, though, even with those feelings. At least he’d find out the truth soon.

Ben opened the door to almost complete darkness, the dim light of the cellar unable to penetrate. He fumbled against the wall just inside and found a light switch, flicking it on. Light filled the room and Ben’s eyes widened as he gasped, covering his mouth with one hand.

Before he had a chance to take in everything there – the tools, the mortuary slab, all of it – hands grabbed his head from behind. Ben tried to struggle, but he didn’t have a chance, the side of his head slamming into the doorframe before he could evade or mount a counterattack. Almost immediately, his vision tunnelled, followed by everything going dark.

* * *

Ben’s vision swam as he came to, his head pounding, a sharp pain throbbing around his temple. He groaned, closing his eyes again. Was he hungover or something? It was then he remembered where he was, his eyes shooting open, and immediately tried to move, only to find his legs bound and his hands secured to what felt like a thick pipe behind his back.

“Ah, back with me, are you?” Hux asked, bringing Ben’s attention to where he stood in front of the mortuary slab – and the body lying on it.

“What the fuck?” Ben spluttered, trying to gather his thoughts. “It was you! I fucking knew it!”

Hux had a small smirk on his face. “Now, now, I don’t think that sort of language is necessary, is it?”

“I fucking do!” Ben snarled, struggling futilely against his bonds. “You’re a murderer! A monster!”

“Well, that depends entirely on your point of view, doesn’t it?” Hux said mildly, pulling on a surgical glove. “Some might even call me a vigilante, though that’s not truly accurate either. I prefer to think of myself as a hunter.”

“You’re a serial killer,” Ben shot back, half-hysterical. “You’ve killed thirteen people!”

“It’s actually more.” Hux’s smirk widened. “You just either haven’t found all of them yet or you haven’t linked them to me.”

The cavalier admission left Ben speechless, his mouth opening and closing soundlessly. Hux was dressed in plain white medical coveralls, completely pristine, with only his head exposed and surgical gloves on his hands. Ben couldn’t look away as Hux turned towards the body, leaving him to stew.

“Is he alive?” Ben finally asked, as Hux laid out various tools and instruments.

“I broke his neck,” Hux said simply, not turning back around. “I hadn’t actually planned to bring him back here, but when my phone alerted me that my silent alarm had been triggered, well, you know I had no choice.”

All of the blood drained from Ben’s face, but Hux just continued, “He was going to look like an accident, though a rather ironic one if you knew the whole story – which no one but myself would, of course. But since he’s here, well, I suppose he’ll have to be one of my statement pieces.”

“Who is he?” Ben didn’t know why he was asking all of these questions, but he figured he was dead, anyway; he supposed he may as well make the most of finally seeing Hux’s hidden side while he could.

“A city council member, one who’s been embezzling funds. Naughty, naughty.” Hux’s voice was so relaxed, so light, almost cheerful; Ben’s stomach twisted. “I could’ve let him go with just a little blackmail to get some leverage with the council but alas, he had to be terribly rude to me at a party.”

Ben didn’t know what to say to that, struck by the reasoning. Hux had said it wouldn’t be accurate to call him a vigilante and he was right – this would look like a vigilante killing, once the councilman’s crimes were unearthed and Hux would surely set it up to suggest so, but that’s not what it was. No, that was a deflection, a convenience. Hux had killed this man because he had annoyed him and, more importantly, because he _could_. It really was that simple.

They’d spent so long trying to figure out the motive, with some of the kills seeming vigilante in nature, but others seeming opportunistic or random; they’d even discussed the possibility of multiple killers, but it had just seemed so unlikely, given the methods. Now it all made sense. Ben felt like an idiot, both for never figuring it out and for coming here when Hux had clearly been prepared.

No one knew he was here, not Poe, not Rey or Finn – he already knew it, but the fact that he was going to die tonight finally hit Ben with crushing inevitability.

While Ben had his crisis, Hux was setting up a tube and a bucket, and it wasn’t long before blood was draining out of his victim into the bucket. Ben couldn’t see what Hux was doing with his back turned, but the words ‘statement piece’ echoed through his mind. He’d seen some of those already and could make some guesses.

“So, Ben,” Hux said, though he didn’t turn around. “I’ve had my suspicions for a while, but since there’s no point in playing around anymore: was I correct in assuming you fancied me?”

Ben spluttered inelegantly. He knew the answer to that question, yet he didn’t want to give Hux the satisfaction of saying it. His warming cheeks, though, betrayed him.

Hux glanced over his shoulder, then smiled; the expression was disturbing in its warmth. “Ah, so you did. It’s a shame, I’d planned to make some excuse to come home with you next time. But then you had to come and invade my house.”

He sighed, sounding truly disappointed. “Such a shame.”

“The shame is that you’re a fucking serial killer,” Ben spat, all false bravado. “Hard to keep my dick hard now that I know what you really are.”

“Oh?” Hux turned to grab a scalpel and then returned his attention to the body, beginning to cut. “Let me tell you what I find interesting: you were interested in me, yet you say that’s no longer true because you now know me. However, you clearly had some suspicions if you broke into my house – illegally, I might add – and found all this. In fact, I’d say you had more than suspicions; I’d say you were _certain_.”

When Hux turned around this time, he was holding the lungs of the body as casually as if he’d been holding a pair of wine glasses; Ben couldn’t focus on them, though, not with the intensity of Hux’s eyes locked on his. “You knew. You knew the whole time. And yet, you still wanted me.”

Ben swallowed, wanting to look away, but finding himself frozen in place by Hux’s gaze.

“Did you fantasize about me, Ben?” Hux took a step forward, setting the lungs down in a basin. “Did you think about me fucking you? Did you cry out my name when you touched yourself, thinking about how our fingers had brushed at one of those ‘dinner interviews’ we had where we talked about everything _but_ the case?”

Ben’s mouth was dry, his throat closed up. Hux must have just been guessing, there’s no way he could’ve known that everything he was saying was _completely true_. Still, it shook Ben to hear it out loud. The way Hux’s lips twisted up into another, more satisfied smirk suggested that Ben’s face had already answered what his mouth refused to.

“And you did all that,” Hux kept coming closer, nearly within touching distance; there was blood smeared on his coveralls, the fingers of his gloves coated, “ _knowing_ , being certain enough to risk your job and your livelihood and maybe even your life, that I was the killer all along? You’ve wanted me as who I really am the entire time. And you still do.”

Where Ben was on the ground, looking up at Hux, he couldn’t help but feel mesmerized, like a prey animal helpless before the jaws of a predator. He should’ve felt scared. He should’ve felt disgusted. He should’ve snarled and yelled and snapped at Hux with all the fire and rage and fear he could muster. As it was, all he could do was stare up at him, rapt.

“Oh, Ben.” Hux’s tone was so soft, so genuine, and Ben couldn’t bring himself to cringe away when Hux leaned down to cup his cheek with one blood-covered glove. “You’ve no idea just how lost you already are.”

Hux let his touch linger and then pulled away, making Ben feel oddly bereft, even with the tacky sensation of blood on his face. He blinked, shaking his head a little, feeling like he was coming out of a trance. Still, though, he couldn’t bring himself to speak. Because, he realized with horror, Hux was _right_. Ben _did_ still want Hux. He had the whole time, all while knowing, deep down, the monster that Hux truly was.

Hux went back to his task, removing organs and setting them aside, and when Ben finally managed to speak, his voice was small, “So? You have the answers you wanted. Does that mean you’re going to kill me now?”

When Hux looked at him over his shoulder, he looked confused, even offended. “Kill you? Oh, Ben, I have no intention of doing that, not unless you force me to.”

“Then what? You know they’ll look for me. They don’t know where I am, but they’ll look. Eventually, they’re bound to find out who you really are.”

“Of course they will,” Hux said nonchalantly, though his eyes were glittering with excitement and certainty. “But I plan to keep you, Ben. We both know you want me, even as I am. By the time they even get remotely close, you’ll be mine and more than happy to admit it.”

Ben didn’t know whether that was a promise or a threat. He felt cold, the fear spreading within him. Worst of all, though, was that the fear wasn’t alone; no, Ben was also _excited_ to see what Hux had to offer, to see the full scope of what he’d hidden, to maybe even indulge in all those fantasies he’d had for so long. He should’ve felt disgust at what Hux was, yet his desires stubbornly remained – and it looked like he’d get to live them out. Ben hated how _thrilled_ he was at the prospect.

Then again, that’s exactly what he’d wanted all along, wasn’t it?

**Author's Note:**

> Come hang out with me on [twitter](http://twitter.com/kyluxtrashpit/) or [tumblr](http://kyluxtrashpit.tumblr.com/) too


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